Corset Story
by IronAmerica
Summary: Priscilla had to look out for herself after Aaron left. A brief look into an unusual relationship.


Hey, it's a new story! I thought I'd get dark!Priscilla out before tonight's episode, just in case.

Un-beta'ed, so quibble away.

- o – o -

Corset Story

_One_

The first time William Strausser met Priscilla, she had just attempted to murder a man named Sean. Given that the drunk had sold her to Drexel for a case of pre-blackout beer, Strausser couldn't exactly blame her. He thought her style could use a bit of refinement, and she could _definitely_ use something to cut a person up with that wasn't a dull, chipped pocketknife that had seen better years.

So he took her out of the prison tent she was being kept in, awaiting trial and sentencing. General Matheson would probably have given her to Drexel, to smooth those ruffled feathers and keep the gold flowing. Strausser couldn't let something like that happen to such a precious treasure, especially not one with such potential.

Priscilla almost tore his ear off. Strausser just smiled at her and licked the blood off her fingers. The shiver that ran through her body was somewhere between pleasure and revulsion. If she was that dedicated to her freedom, Strausser thought, he'd made the right choice in taking her.

She accepted his mark of protection with all due grace, sitting still as he laced her into a simple brown corset.

_Two_

Priscilla was quite fond of Strausser. That was alright with him—he was quite fond of her too. The rest of the encampment wasn't quite sure what Strausser was waiting for in regards to Priscilla, though. Of all his previous lovers, she was the only one who hadn't stumbled out of his tent one day, covered in blood and bruises. In fact, she seemed to be completely unharmed, aside from the usual bruises that came from tripping over a cot on the way to the latrines.

They were rather private people. No one was going to push their nose into that privacy either, for fear of disturbing Corporal Strausser who, as it was well-known, liked his privacy enough to kill for it.

Watching Priscilla come out of Strausser's tent every morning became a bit of a pastime for the ladies of the camp, who tried to spot if she was being hurt. It was a decent hobby, and it kept them out of trouble—the old phrase would have been "off the streets", but those streets were gone. Priscilla usually walked by early in the morning, clad in a worn t-shirt and a pair of pants that everyone was sure belonged to Strausser. It set tongues wagging, and the pot on the bet as to how the relationship would turn out got larger every day.

The most fascinating days to watch, though, were when Strausser and Priscilla walked out of the tent together. Strausser was always turned out finely in his uniform. Priscilla usually wore whatever clothes were clean and handy at the moment.

Watching her come out one morning in an off-brown corset with a leash attached to the back was…. Well, even for Strausser and Priscilla, it was a bit different.

Shortly after breakfast, when the rumor mill had gone full speed ahead, Priscilla took the leash back from her paramour and clipped it to a tab on her the right side of the corset.

"The peasants are talking again," she whispered to Strausser as she left.

Several people fainted in fright as the man smiled.

_Three_

By the end of four months, people got used to seeing Priscilla coming and going from Strausser's tent, with nary a bruise or blemish in sight. It didn't stop the ladies in the camp from trying to figure out just what hold she had over him to keep him from going crazy. (It was probably the corsets she wore, but no one was going to ask.)

It was a common sight to see Priscilla walking around in Strausser's pants too. She was quite a bit shorter than him, however, and had taken to rolling the cuffs up so she didn't trip over them. She looked quite a bit happier than she had with Sean when she'd first arrived—although everyone could understand _that_. Sean was an idiot, and he wasn't exactly the most likeable fellow. (Neither was Strausser, but there was a good reason for that.)

There were people who were used to seeing Strausser taking long walks with his lady in the evening, after he was no longer confined to work. There were a few women—most of them led by Julia Neville—who thought they looked rather sweet together. As long as William Strausser was occupied elsewhere with a woman that wasn't them, they were quite happy for him.

When Priscilla appeared on morning wearing a black corset with a multitude of D-rings down the front, no one said a thing.

It was probably their anniversary or something.

_Four_

Zippers were hard to come by, almost a year after the blackout. Finding one of them was a miracle, and finding more than one would be enough to retire on. It was one of the strangest parts of the new trades that had sprung up after the blackout, but zippers—like beer that wasn't home-brewed—were becoming a rare commodity. No one made them anymore. No one knew _how_ to make them anymore. (Priscilla was strongly of the opinion that all the smart people had either died off or moved to Canada.)

The newest gift from Will was, thus, a bit of a surprise. Priscilla had expected a sword, or a uniform like his—she was, after all, a part of the Militia now. (It hadn't been called the Militia in those days, though. It'd been a ragtag group of survivors playing at being a government, and the Militia had been there to keep the peace and protect people from outside threats.) The package didn't contain a uniform. It had a new corset with three zippers—two on the front, for decoration, and one to hold it closed in back. Priscilla couldn't resist a shiver of pleasure as she slipped the newest addition to her collection on.

Will spoiled her, badly.

She didn't mind in the least.

_Five_

Funerals were something Priscilla had never gotten used to. Her mother to cancer, her father to a bad car crash a few years later; her older brother was probably dead too, out in California. Then Aaron had vanished and, whil Priscilla was still rather miffed about him leaving her—hadn't they promised to be together forever?—she still worried that he'd died.

It was hard, losing people.

Will didn't buy her latest corset for her. Priscilla got it for herself, watching with hawk eyes as the tailor cut the black leather to shape and began putting the corset together. As soon as it was done, she pulled it on and snapped it shut. There was no lacing in the back, but she could tighten it up along the sides.

It wasn't comfortable, but then… Well, funerals weren't very comfortable either.

Will held her close that night and let her cry.

_Six_

General Matheson was up to something. What that something was, Priscilla didn't know. It worried her quite a bit. He'd been fishing for something, dropping by the tent at all hours when Will wasn't there. That he was clean-shaven and smelling slightly of whatever aftershave had survived the blackout also said something sinister was up.

Well, to Priscilla it was sinister. She quite liked staying with Will. He didn't treat her like a pet (Aaron had, in a roundabout way), glass (Sean had discovered why _that_ was a mistake), and he actually listened to her opinions and thought she was quite intelligent (Aaron and Sean had done neither, either because they were that inept socially or because they were just that stupid).

By the time Will was sent on a scavenging mission that he hadn't volunteered for, Priscilla had started sleeping with a knife close at hand. Just in case.

She contemplated shredding the corset—flocked velvet with brass buckles—when it appeared in a box in front of her tent one morning.

It stayed in the box until Will arrived home and saw it.

General Matheson stopped visiting after that.

_Seven_

If Aaron's proposal had been over the top and hideously expensive, Will's was the opposite.

Aaron had taken her on a cruise to Australia, and halfway through the cruise, had pulled her onto the dance floor in a club they'd gone to frequently. As the Wizard of Google, Aaron had anything and everything he wanted. All he had to do was ask. He'd given her a ring that was worth more than her house and car combined, and asked her to marry him. Priscilla had been flustered by the vacation, but then it made sense. Aaron wasn't exactly comfortable with showing his emotions—unless there was computer code involved, of course. But over-the-top material displays were easier for him. Priscilla had taken advantage of the promise that she could think on it, if she liked, to compose a reply.

They'd gotten married three months after Priscilla e-mailed Aaron the binary code for a wedding dress.

Will, on the other hand, wasn't prone to emotional displays of any kind, material or not. Sure, he bought her gifts for markers in their relationship, but he wasn't exactly emotional about it. It was usually just "here, I bought you something" and then he'd hand her the package while standing awkwardly near the door as if he were preparing to run.

This time, though, he'd included a note with the package and fled as soon as he'd given it to her. Priscilla opened the package and smiled at the newest corset inside. Delicate vines sewn in gold thread crawled across the right side of the corset, and a pin with several chains dangling from it covered the other side.

As proposals went, it was very sweet.

_Eight_

Her second wedding had been different. Priscilla was content with the idea that no one would ever try to imitate her—either they weren't that daring, or they were afraid to try and copy her. But Will had liked the red gauzy dress that you could practically see through, along with the black underbust corset she'd worn to keep the ensemble together. Almost as much as he'd liked the white garment she'd worn on their honeymoon at the ramshackle house they'd found near Philadelphia.

It had been two years since the blackout, and things were finally settling down.

The eighth corset that marked an occasion in their life was black with brown and gold accents. Priscilla wore it in the kitchen with a pair of shorts and not much else.

It took Will several hours to calm down after learning that he was going to be a father.

_Nine_

By the time Wednesday had turned two, Priscilla was sure she wasn't going to have another child so unexpectedly again. Not in the middle of a war, and not when she had to work, anyways. She and Will were careful and besides, they had Wednesday to dote on. (It still tickled her that Will liked the Addams Family as much as she did, enough that they were in agreement about naming their first daughter after the character.) Wednesday was a sweet child, and she was rambunctious enough to keep both parents on their toes at all hours of the day and night.

General Matheson gave Wednesday a rubber knife when she began teething, and—winning himself a few points in Priscilla's book—wisely left after wishing the girl a happy birthday.

Priscilla still had to tell Will she was pregnant again.

He looked up as she entered the room in a dark brown velvet corset and closed his book.

"Do you think it'll be a boy this time?"

Priscilla just kissed him in reply.

- o – o -

So, what did you think? Good? Bad? Want to read more about dark!Priscilla and Will? Drop a line and let me know!


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